The Wardens of Lothlorien
by Megan R Henry
Summary: The three brothers, Haldir, Rumil and Orophin, were nearly always together. Even now, they were united. Warning: Character death


**The Wardens of Lothlorien**

It was clear for anyone to see that the three brothers were as different as night and day. Yes, they all had the same silvery blonde hair, and blue grey eyes, and they were all wardens of Lothlorien, loyal to the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, but that was where the similarities mostly ended for the three siblings.

The oldest of the three, Haldir, was high amongst the ranks, one of the four march wardens of the realm, and he had long been looking after his siblings, especially since the loss of their parents. He was the heaviest, well muscled and strong, and just as capable with a broadsword as with the traditional bow and arrow. Although seemingly arrogant to outsiders, once you got beneath the cold and indifferent mask that he wore, he was kind and gentle and of the utmost politeness. Deep down, he was very caring, and protective of both his family and his realm, always seeking to do what was best.

The middle child was Rumil. Slightly leaner than his elder brother, he favoured long hunting knives over swords and was one of the only elves in Lothlorien to possess a rather ornate set with ivory handles that had been passed down to him from their father Aradhin upon his death. He was the romantic, always rather fond of his poetry and his music and was often found during his spare time wooing some elleth or another with his fancy words or lilting melodies. Even while on patrol, it wasn't unusual to hear a soft tune echoing through the trees, played on his flute or harp, if he could manage to sneak it out from under Haldir's watchful gaze. Haldir didn't approve of any possible distractions from their duties, although he had no objections while at home, sometimes even joining in on his own lute.

And last, but certainly by no means least, there was Orophin, the youngest in both age and in looks. He was both tall and lean, more so than either of his brothers, and his features were much more angular and delicate as well. Where Haldir could be seen as distant and aloof, Orophin was open and friendly, ready to crack a joke, and where Rumil was always ready to flirt with a lady, the youngest brother was more content with being friends for a while and building a relationship from there. He was a joker as well, always playing a prank or two. He had been little more than a tiny elfling when their parents had passed, and both Haldir and Rumil had done their best to raise him as well as possible. They had succeeded too, and he had grown to be a respectable ellon, even if he did have a mischievous side.

But now, Celeborn thought sadly, they all had one more thing in common. Standing solemnly, he looked over the three brothers, surveying the family who had just returned home. They had returned to Lothlorien for the last time, forever united, even now. In death. Many of their warriors had fallen at Helms Deep, the three included. There they lay in front of him, cold and still, and he was deeply saddened.

Haldir, the firstborn, had also been the first to die, run through by an orc blade. His death had been relatively quick at least. Orophin had been slain next, crying out with grief at spotting his fallen brother, and then taken by surprise. A sharp blow to his head had knocked him clean off the great wall and anyone close by would have been able to hear the sickening crack as his body collided with the ground. Then it had only been Rumil left, mouth agape in horror. Spurred on by his fury, he battled on viciously, no longer holding back and his mind clouded with both grief and sorrow. It shouldn't have been this way; Orophin was too young to die, and he half hoped that the young ellon had survived the fall, although he knew in his heart that such a thing was not possible, not even for the strongest warrior. Haldir was gone too, his body crumpled in the rain. Never again would he chide Rumil for his music or behaviour.

Then, he felt his knife fly from his hands into those of the nearby enemy, felt the silvery steel of the blade pressed roughly against his throat. So this was how he would die then, bled dry by his own weapon. In some sick sort of way, it was rather romantic and none too fitting for the middle child of the family.

In one single battle, they had all been lost. They had no remaining family to mourn them, and none of them had ever taken a wife (save for Rumil, but she had already passed, taken in an orc raid many years previous) and so there was no one to inform. Besides, all had seen the bodies be carried back into the realm. Kneeling down beside them each in turn, the Lord of Lothlorien murmured a quiet blessing before returning to his feet. Giving the three loyal brothers a last silent bow of respect, he turned and left.

At least, as always, they were together, in death just as in life.

**Thanks for reading guys. This came from when I was watching the films a little while back. Although Rumil and Orophin aren't actually mentioned by name, a thought came to my head. Surely if Haldir was at the battle at Helms Deep, at least one of them could have been there as well, which gave rise to this short little one-shot and an awful lot of feels.**

**~Megan**


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